Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1887-09-18

lets from Lady Florence Dixie. Lady
FIoreuee. il may be remembered, visited
Zulnlapd soon after the Princes death,
and she brought back with her some OF Inc
Wild grasses and flowers from the place
where he fell to lie on bis pail. The pail
10 a remarkable affair. II is huge square
of silk velvet, embroidered with massive
silver fringe. On the corners Is embrol-
dered in bullion the arms and eagles OF
France. and over the entire surtace ID
worked figures about the size md exactly
the shape Of pear. What these pearsrep-
resented could not imagine; the less as
only the bee and the viOlets are usu-
olly associated with the Napoleons-
Finally my curiosity tempted me to
ask our friendly priest, whereupon he re-
sponded, and fancy with something OF
twinkle in his black eye: Mon Dieu,
Madame. those are the tears of the French
neople." Then he went on to say: This
beautiful pail was made by the aged god
mother of the Prince Imperial, the Count
ess Buissonieres. She wrote, 1 made MIN
his first present with my own hands, an
embroidered cloak; let me give HIM MS
last covering, and the last work OF these
trembling tingures. A.
Massive wreathes from the Queen, the
Princess of Wales and the Duchess OF Ed
inburg lay on the coffin, the same rougn
oaken casket in which the body was brought
from afar. A tall cross OF white Easter
lilies was there, from the Princes Louise,
and the latest gift was wreath OF PINK
roses in china, which the Princess Beatrice
had laid on the pail with her own hanos
From this wreath q single rose bud had
been broken, and with Frenchman 8
courtesy to foreigner, the priest OF 81
Mary's gave it to me as souvenir.
Just before we left the church little IN
cident occurred which
MADE PROFOUND IMPRESSION
upon us. There entered man whose lace
and dress proclaimed him alike French.
He was not old, though his shoulders were
bent his hair streaked with grey and
deep wrinkles hedged his mouth ana
crossed his forehead. He approached the
recess where the young prince lies, Win
the slow step and bowed head OF one VINO
comes to worship. For a long time ne
stood before the grating, now and then
| CROSSING ululSSll
Finally, with furtive glance about, the
mourner drew from his vest pocket small
envelope. 1t was full of withered violets'
One by one he kissed and threw them on
the stone floor with dramatic tervor, his
face becoming steadily whittier with the Ell.
fort to command himself As the last
faded flower fell he sank upon his knees,
and despairingly bowed his grizzled head
on the pew door. No one looked at him
then, for his grief made him sacred.
As we passed under the graceful porch
of the church, on our way out, my eye was
caught by a grave, pleasant contrast to
those within. A roughly cut cross OF white
marble, half hidden under tender shoots OF
the greenest ivy and shaded by bush
rich in glorious red roses. Among the
roses little bird had conidingly built its
nest, and right down upon it, and on the
thick green turf, shOne the pleasant SUM-
This is the resting place of Prince Pouloto-
wski, the faithful friend of Napoleon Ill,
and who in death would not be divided.
MRS. RoPEET P. PORTER.